


Bro/Reader Drabbles

by justacr0w



Series: Bro/ Reader Shenanigans (AU) [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Other, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Teenagers, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 10:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18618586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justacr0w/pseuds/justacr0w
Summary: A collection of drabbles all based in the years before Dave was born. Reader is 13-14 in most of these while Bro/ Dirk is about 15-16.None of these are really finished but I thought they were cute and they give some insight into how Reader met Bro all those years ago.





	1. Chapter 1

"Have a good day at school, (Name)."

You wave at your dad as you climb out of the car and sling your backpack over your shoulder. He drives off after you shut the door, leaving you standing on the sidewalk outside your new school while other students make their way inside in groups or pairs.

With a deep breath, you follow the flow of students into the building and try to find the office to get your schedule and hopefully a map or something so you don't get too terribly lost on your first day. You manage that well enough, and also manage to avoid getting crushed in the flow of the student body when the bell rings for classes to start.

The day starts well enough for you, though you feel horribly out of place here and everyone keeps commenting on your accent (they're the ones with the accent, you think to yourself after the tenth person asks where you're from). You wonder when lunch will be, and also if anyone will ever talk to you about something other than your accent, your hometown, or how long you've been in Houston.

Finally lunch happens and you're swept off with your current class to a lunchroom full of the rest of your grade (or at least half of it- there's so many people in here that you feel a bit like fainting). Since money is tight, you brought lunch from home, so you don't have to spend forever waiting in a line to get something to eat; you find a seat at your class's table near the end as close to the door as you can manage without breaking the rules about "wrong tables."

The longer you sit there in the noisy lunchroom, though, the less you feel like eating. After about five minutes of not being able to hear yourself think, you scoop up your lunch and scoot out through a back door into a blessedly silent hallway. You can't stay here though or a teacher might find you, and if you get in trouble on your first day of school, your dad will kill you. So you wander around, dodging any form of authority you see and eating as you walk, until you end up on the roof of the school somehow.

Instead of wondering why the access door isn't locked, you shrug and go outside, blinking in the sunlight. You think you're alone until your eyes adjust and you spot someone lounging on top of one of the many metal boxes that are scattered around up here. What purpose they serve isn't immediately obvious, but you're sure that sleeping on them is probably a bad idea.

If they get electrocuted or something, it's not my problem, you tell yourself and start looking for a comfy place to spend the rest of your lunch break. You end up sitting on the roof a few feet away from the place where the stranger is lounging, and start to nibble on the crackers your dad had packed for you. The sound apparently gets their attention and quite suddenly there's a face in front of you, upside down and wearing a pair of ridiculous pointy sunglasses.

"Eh?!" You choke on your cracker and scramble backward, hitting the metal box behind you with a loud clang.

The face tilts slightly, the lips quirking just a bit, and quite suddenly there's loud laughter coming from whoever the face belongs to. It moves out of sight for a moment and then a tall boy wearing a white and orange raglan shirt drops into view. His hair is an almost freakish shade of blond and his Converse are bright orange but scuffed. And those shades really are ridiculous.

"Who're you?" he asks when his laughter stops and you get your breath back.

"Uh... (N-Name)," you reply shyly, face burning.

"I'm Dirk."

"Nice to meet you, I guess... I didn't mean to bother you..."

He gives you a grin. "Didn't expect anyone else t' be on the roof. I had to see who else was up here."

You blink. "Oh, well... The lunchroom was really loud and it freaked me out, so I... I ditched. And here I am."

"Lunch? Shit, you're a sixth grader? Maaaaan, I thought all the sixth graders were goody two shoes. Nice."

He drops down next to you, leaning back and looking up at the sky. You shift nervously, reaching for another cracker and offering the baggy to him out of habit. Dirk waves it off, and asks instead if you have a quarter. You do, so you dig it out of your pocket and hand it over without even asking what he needs it for.

It's quiet between you for a long time, long enough at least for you finish your lunch, before he asks the dreaded question.

"Where are you from? You don't sound Texan," he says, casually shifting around to look at you without having to turn his head.

You grumble under your breath and answer him. "Everyone and their freakin' brother's been asking me that," you add grumpily.

"Only natural, you stick out like a sore thumb 'round here." Dirk laughs at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, and from there the conversation gets casual again. You talk for a long while without noticing the passage of time, until Dirk's phone buzzes from a pocket. He checks it and whistles.

"Okay, new kid, it's my lunch break," he explains as he stands up. "And that means you need to get your ass back to class before somebody gets pissy. C'mon." He offers you a hand.

You take it and he pulls you to your feet. The two of you go back inside and manage to get back into the halls without encountering any teachers at all. Dirk asks what class you're supposed to be in, and you have to check your schedule to find out. When you tell him, he laughs and claps you on the shoulder.

"Ooh, good luck surviving in there," he says as he leads you down to the second floor. "Everyone hates that guy."

He takes you directly to class and leaves you standing outside the door to go to lunch. You watch him leave, hoping you'll see him again tomorrow.


	2. Chapter 2

"Yo, (Name)!"

You look up from your homework to see Dirk waving at you across the school courtyard. He's not wearing a jacket despite the faint chill in the air, and you frown slightly at the realization. He closes the remaining distance and adjusts his shades.

"Hey," you say finally, going back to the math problem you've been struggling with for the last fifteen minutes.

"Homework?" He drops onto the bench next to you, leaning back on his arms like some kind of cool kid even though you know he's actually just a huge dweeb. "That's lame."

"Not all of us are super geniuses," you retort, deciding to skip the problem and work on the next one. "Some of us actually have to work for our grades."

He laughs and flaps a hand at you. "Need help? Math is shit but I'm pretty good at it."

You chew on your lip, thinking about it. You _are_ tired of struggling with this crap, you realize. And this is a great way to actually get to spend time with Dirk until your dad shows up, seeing as ever since winter break he's been running off with god-knows-who almost every afternoon and ignoring your texts half the time. So you shrug and hand him the math book, pointing at the problem you've been struggling with.

Dirk looks it over, shrugs, and starts helping you solve the problem. He doesn't just do the work for you, he actually tries explaining the method the teachers want you to use so you can solve it on your own. He's a pretty good tutor, you think to yourself, tapping your pencil against your cheek as you listen to his explanations.

Finally, _finally_ , it clicks and you solve the damn thing on your own. Dirk claps you on the shoulder and grins, congratulating you on your success. You're about to ask him to help with another problem when his phone rings from his back pocket.

He answers it carelessly, but then you see his face pinch and get hard; even with the shades in the way, you can tell he's angry. "Sorry, gotta split," he says, getting to his feet.

"Dirk, wait!" you protest. "What's been going on? You keep running off and never answering when I text you, and showing up at school with bruises."

He brushes you off, cracking his knuckles. "It's nothing. Just some shit with my friends."

You grab his hand without thinking about it. He stiffens at your touch, then pulls away. "Dirk, please," you say shakily, surprised by your own boldness at touching him. "I'm worried about you."

He gives you a faint, cocky grin and ruffles your hair. "You're such a goody-two-shoes, (Name)," he teases. "Don't worry about me. See ya Monday."

With that, he fucks off, leaving you sitting at the table with your homework spread in front of you and your mouth open to call after him. You change your mind and start gathering your belongings, just in time for your dad to pull up in front of the school and honk the horn.

Monday morning, you pace around the courtyard anxiously, waiting for Dirk to show up. You'd texted him over the weekend to check on him, and he'd not answered you until Sunday night. You'd asked him to meet you in the courtyard before school, and he'd agreed. Now you were waiting for him, wondering if the blond troublemaker was going to stand you up again, like he'd been doing every couple of days recently.

About ten minutes before the bell, he finally arrives, wearing an orange-and-white baseball cap and his hands wrapped in bandages. His bottom lip is split and you can see the tell-tale signs of a black eye peeking out from under his shades.

"Dirk!" You run up to him, dropping your backpack and reaching for his hand without thinking.

He flinches away from you, and you stop, forcing your hands into the pockets of your hoodie instead.

"Yo."

"What happened?" you ask him pointedly. "You look like you got in a fight or something."

He shrugs casually and doesn't answer your question. Instead he asks, "Did you get your math homework figured out?"

Annoyed, you kick your backpack with one foot, nudging it further away. "Who cares about math homework? I'm worried, damn it."

Dirk's lips crack into that familiar, cocky grin despite the injury. "For such a goody-two-shoes, you're awfully worried about me," he chuckles.

"You're my only real friend," you reply, your voice going quiet. "Of course I'm worried about you."

He laughs again and suddenly throws his arm around your shoulder in a half-assed hug. "Thanks, kid. Now grab your shit, you're gonna be late."


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't like you hanging around that kid," your dad tells you as you bring him his dinner.

"What kid?" You put a can of Coke on the table next to his chair.

"That kid with the shades. I don't like you hanging around him so much." He crosses his legs and begins to eat. You start to walk away, back to the kitchen, when he continues. "Stop seeing him so much."

"Dad, Dirk is my friend. He's the only real friend I've got," you protest, careful to keep your voice as neutral as you can.

"Well, make other friends. I don't want to see you around him anymore. Do you understand?"

You start to protest, but you realize it's pointless. Your dad has made up his mind and saying anything to him now will just result in him taking your phone and grounding you for a month. Sighing, you instead give your assent and slump back to the kitchen to find yourself something to eat.

Ever since your mom fucked off a year or so ago, you've been having to act like a caretaker to your father despite still being a kid. Now that you're in the eighth grade, it's gotten worse and worse, and this is only one more straw on the proverbial camel's back. As you throw a tv dinner in the microwave, you pull your phone out of your pocket to check your texts and turn the sound off. If and when Dirk remembers to text you, it's late at night and you don't want your dad to hear your phone go off.

Leaning on the counter, you fire off a text to Dirk, complaining about your dad. You can understand some of why your parent would be concerned- Dirk isn't exactly a great role model. You know the blond gets into fights frequently, he ditches his classes at the local high school more often than not, and he's pretty unreliable as a friend. But despite all of that, he's been there for you when you needed him, especially when your mom ran off and left you on your own, and he treats you like a human being. You've got a couple of people in your classes at school that you like well enough to share your phone number and online handle with, and you talk all the time through IMs, but none of them give off the same vibe of comfort that Dirk does. Sure, he's two years older than you and in high school now, but you still like him more than most people your own age.

The microwave goes off and you decide to just eat there in the kitchen instead of going to your room like you usually would. Hopping up onto the counter, you nibble at the mac n' cheese, staring at the stained linoleum floor. Your phone buzzes- surprisingly, it's Dirk.

He asks if you're okay, and you respond in the affirmative. He then replies with a question of if you want to hang out tonight. You have to think about it for a long time- the chance to actually see Dirk now that he's in high school is one-in-a-million, and you'd love nothing more than to get to hang out with him for a while. But it means sneaking out of your apartment without getting caught by your dad, and if you get busted, you can kiss not only your phone, but your computer and your freedom goodbye for the rest of the school year. But it's Friday night and your dad is probably going to be watching football and not moving from his recliner unless it's to pee or go to bed, and if you tell him you're going to sleep early, he might just leave you alone.

Swallowing hard, you finally answer Dirk, telling him you'd love to hang out but you need a time and a place. As you wait for his reply, you wash your dishes and clean up everything from making your dad's dinner. It's not until you've taken your dad's plate back and washed it too that Dirk replies again.

He wants your address. He's going to come pick you up, he says. Bring a coat, he says. You give him your address without hesitating, shove your phone in your pocket, and grab a new Coke for your dad.

"Hey, dad?" you say as you deliver it. "I'm not feeling too good so I'm gonna go to bed early, okay? The kitchen's clean and everything already."

He grunts at you, giving you a suspicious look. "You seemed fine earlier."

"Yeah, well... I ate and now I'm regretting it," you lie, putting a hand on your stomach. "I guess it didn't agree with me, so I'm just gonna lay down and try to sleep."

"Your homework?"

"Done already."

"Fine. Keep it down in there, I don't want to hear your tv or anything if you're that sick."

You nod and clear out, heading to your room. You wonder briefly how you're going to get out of the apartment without your dad catching you, but then you remember that if you can slip out while he's in the bathroom, he'll never know you left. Sitting on your bed, you make your plans, your heart racing. You've never done anything this daring before- the fear of your dad has always kept you well-enough in line. Hopefully your dad will have to pee soon, and Dirk won't mind waiting for a minute so you can make your escape.

Half an hour later, your phone buzzes. Dirk, saying he's outside. You tell him to wait a minute while you crack your door carefully to check if your dad is still in the living room or if he's maybe gone to bed himself. The living room tv is on, but you don't see the outline of his head in the recliner. He's in the kitchen or the bathroom, you realize, and grab your backpack, which you've packed with necessities just in case.

Slowly and stealthily, you turn off your bedroom light and close your door, tiptoeing down the hall. You see the light on in the bathroom and hear the fan going in there, so you make a mad, silent dash for the front door, keys clutched in your fist. You hear your dad fussing about in the bathroom still- you only have a minute or so before he's done, you know.

Biting your lip, you click the locks back and ease the door open just enough to slip out, pulling it silently closed and jamming your key into the lock so your dad won't notice anything is wrong. Then you quietly make your way down the sidewalk to the parking space where your dad's car is, and look around for Dirk.

You spot a battered, rusty pickup truck a couple doors down, and it pulls forward until the passenger side window is directly in front of you. The window is rolled down, and Dirk's face comes into view, leaning over from the driver's seat.

"Yo," he greets you with a grin.

You return the grin and climb into the car, closing the door very gently so your dad doesn't hear it and get curious. "Get out of here before my dad hears this thing," you say as you buckle your seat belt and drop your bag onto the floorboards.

Dirk obliges, pulling away slowly so the engine doesn't make too much noise. You hold your breath until he pulls out of your neighborhood and onto the main road, and once the truck is stopped at a traffic light, you exhale heavily.

"Holy shit," you sigh. "I can't believe I did that."

Dirk smirks at you, his shades reflecting the red of the stoplight. "What, did you not ask permission or something?"

You nod. "Yeah, I kinda... snuck out. That's why I told you to be quiet about pulling off and shit."

He pauses, his smirk changing to a startled little gasp. Then it comes back, wider than ever as the light changes and he accelerates. "And here I thought you were such a goody-two-shoes," he snickers.

"You're a bad influence," you retort, slumping down in the seat.

Dirk laughs more. "So, you wanna get something to eat?"

"Hell yes," you reply enthusiastically. "TV dinners aren't filling and I'm starving."

He drives you to a local fast food place that serves a bastardized, Americanized version of Mexican food, and it seems like he orders half the menu without a second thought. Once you have the food and your drinks, he drives off again, this time to a local park.

Without getting out of the truck, you sit together and eat, talking about school and other random things, catching up on everything since you haven't been able to see him in months. Finally, Dirk asks what made you decide to sneak out instead of asking your dad permission to hang out with a friend.

You slurp at your drink, knees propped up on the dashboard. "He said I couldn't see you again," you tell him finally. "He said I should make friends my own age and that I shouldn't be around you anymore."

Dirk is silent for a minute, munching on his taco. "Well, he's probably right, (Name). I'm not the greatest role model and shit, yanno."

You shrug. "I don't care. You're my friend and I wanna hang out with you as much as I can. Who gives a shit what my dad says."

"You're only thirteen," Dirk reminds you.

You shrug again, looking over at him. "That didn't stop you from inviting me to hang out," you point out. "If that bothered you, you shouldn't have asked me."

He nods sightly. "Fair point. I don't really give a shit- you're a fun kid and not a drag to be around like most brats your age. And I figured you'd want a night away from your old man since he's being such a dick."

You feel your cheeks flush at his words. He likes being around you, you realize, and the thought makes you smile as you sip at your drink.

Dirk seems to have finished eating for now, and he gives you a look in the darkness of the truck. "Hey, you done?" he asks, and you nod.

He opens the truck door and climbs out, gesturing for you to follow, so you do just that after unbuckling your seat belt. He leads you past the park signs (which state explicitly that the park is closed after sundown) and past the concrete play area with the basketball hoops and skate ramps until you reach the playground.

There's an old, rusty merry-go-round there, and he flops onto it without a word. You join him, your knees tucked to your chest, and while you're sitting there, he moves his feet just enough to set the thing spinning slowly in the cool darkness. You tuck your head down onto your knees, exhaling slowly. This is nice, you think idly, listening to the sound of Dirk's breathing from next to you. Suddenly there's a tug on your hoodie, and you shift to look over at your friend.

"Lay back with me, (Name)," he says, his voice a lot quieter than usual.

You do, your head resting on the cool, rusty metal of the merry-go-round, and watch the sky. The stars are swirling overhead, because the merry-go-round is still slowly spinning thanks to the idle motions of Dirk's battered Converse.

Dirk's hands are tucked behind his head, supporting it, and the sky is reflected in his shades. Curiously, you roll onto your side and poke lightly at his cheek.

"Hey, Dirk? How come you wear those all the time?" you ask.

He shrugs. "They look cool," he says casually.

"Even at night, though?"

"Especially at night."

"You're weird as hell."

"Like you're not, kid." He grins suddenly in the dark, teeth a brief flash of white.

You stick your tongue out at him. "Shut up, old man."

His grin widens, and then he sits up. "You wanna come back to my place for the night? I have video games and shit."

You blink, not having thought this far ahead. What if your dad goes to ask you something and you're not home? What if you don't get back in time tomorrow morning? You eventually decide that if you were going to get busted, it would have happened already, because your phone would have gone off from your dad demanding to know where you were and what the hell you thought you were doing. You check it as soon as the thought hits you, and are pleasantly relieved to see there are no messages or missed calls.

"Well?" Dirk prompts you.

"Uh, sure, but I need to be home by six," you answer. "My dad's an early riser."

"Can do. Let's get going, yeah?"


End file.
